


I'll See You in the Orchard

by wanderinginthewoods



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: 3x10, A reeeally long one shot, Alternate Ending, Anne goes to Avonlea, Anne is lovelorn but also annoyed, Arguing, Banter, Bash finds out, Blythe Orchard, Conversations, Dancing, F/M, Gilbert is still confused, Happy Ending, Season 3, The turquoise dress though, They escape to the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinginthewoods/pseuds/wanderinginthewoods
Summary: An alternate final, where Gilbert has to leave for Toronto later on, and doesn't bump into Diana. Meanwhile Anne--after meeting Winifred--finds herself on a spontaneous journey to Avonlea to confront him for not telling her about his lack of engagement--amongst other things.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 86
Kudos: 531





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the final, I do! Diana was queen, and her yelling at Gilbert was so satisfying. But this popped into my head and I decided to explore it. The thought of Anne and Gilbert getting together in Avonlea, in a place that is so _them_ appealed to me. I have to say, this was supposed to be way shorter than it is--it completely got away from me. Apologies.
> 
> Let's just say all mistakes are always due to lack of sleep.  
> Italics are usually thoughts.
> 
> Comments and critiques are always welcome 🌿

It was just another pleasant day at the small, but busy, Bright River station. Fluffy white clouds danced above, sparsely sprinkled against the endless blue sky, providing little reprieve from the rays of a persistent summer sun--rays which weren’t strong enough to burn, but did drive one to desire a cold glass of lemonade after being exposed to them for too long. The idle chatter of people and thumping of footsteps reverberated around the small platform, as a crowd exited the train. Amongst them were the impatient taps of the worn, leather boots of one Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, waiting to step out of the cabin and continue her most vital journey. You see, it wasn't just another day for Anne. It was a momentous day. A potentially marvelous day. She was on the mission to reveal her heart to Gilbert Blythe.

_I’ve had quite enough of these pesky unrequited feelings. I shall voice them, out loud, straight in front of him, and then let's see him ignore me_ , she vowed, adrenaline fueling her courage. It must be said that it was much easier for one to be brave when the object of their affections was eight long miles away.

It would be unthinkable, however, for her to run off without greeting her oldest friend on the island, and she stopped momentary to glance in its direction.

"Wish me luck, dear, old cherry tree.. Oh, and if you could spare it, would you pass on a morsel of your ancient wisdom to me, so I can refrain from putting my foot in it with Gilbert--I would be eternally grateful," she murmured cheerfully at its outstretched branches, just as serene and bride-like as the first day Anne lay eyes on her, all those wonderful years ago. Imagining the branches urging her onward, she took a determined breath and hurried off the platform in a rush--dark, velvet skirt clutched in one hand, trunk in another.

_Off to Avonlea, to tell Gilbert I love him, I love him, I--I did not think this through._

She skidded to a sudden stop at the front of the station, frowning--how would she traverse the long distance to Avonlea? Pale face scrunched, she spun around, looking for someone, anyone she knew, but alas there was no one familiar in sight. _Of course there isn't, why would there be, for no one knows I’m here!_

An unladylike growl left her lips as she started down the road towards her little town, red, curled hair bouncing behind her. "Well done, Anne! An unromantic prolonged hike in the sun is _not_ how one commences the race towards their beloved in any of the great stories," she grumbled, admonishing herself while she trod down the dirt road. She had long accepted that thinking ahead really wasn't one of her strong suits, even less so when her mind was already so full of a certain curly-haired wreck of a man-boy. She took comfort in that fact that she couldn't fully shoulder all the blame of not planning ahead--it was a miracle that she had bumped into Winifred at all that morning, and that the golden haired beauty magnanimously set aside her own anguish and told Anne the truth about her unfortunate circumstances with Gilbert. _I owe her an insurmountable debt._

Her mind had been reeling with questions all morning. _If Gilbert indeed wasn't engaged, then what was in that letter he had so carefully placed on my dresser with the word 'Anne' in such lovely--albeit slightly shaky, as if he were nervous--cursive script?_

Oh, woe her uncontrollable temper! Nevertheless, it bothered Anne to no end that the man in question had not come to tell her himself that his engagement was non-existent. She hadn't even heard the news in town-- _how on earth did he hide such a juicy piece of gossip from Mrs. Lynde, that woman hears tittle-tattle whispered in a remote forest over a mile away!_

And after the impassioned conversation between herself and Gilbert at the ruins, after her own note.. How could he be so reticent about his plans? 

_Or is my letter the precise reason for his pulling away? I swear Gilbert Blythe, nothing you do makes any sense to me!  
_

Getting exceedingly annoyed, and at a loss for answers, she kicked a pebble near her foot.

Her mind wondered to her serendipitous meeting with Winifred earlier this morning. 

_Tell me what?_

She had asked the angelic woman, who, radiating a deep sadness, told her there was no engagement. As Anne stood there, bewildered and mute, Winifred offered only one sentence in explanation, her pearly blue eyes forlorn as she said it. 

_"He feels his love for you is unrequited."_

Breath stilled in shock, wishing she wasn't wearing a corset for the feel of it tightening around her, Anne tried to process what she heard, along with the sudden elation and hope she felt in her heart. In the end it was the fine melancholy eyes, on a face held up high with dignity, looking steadily into hers, that broke her out of her astonished stupor. All Anne could do in that moment was move forward and place a gloved hand on Winifred's own, squeezing tenderly. She had poured all her apologies and respect into that one wordless touch, whispered only a heartfelt _thank you_ and fled back to Queen's. 

Anne had felt fortune's hand at work, and as she blindly ran down the busy Charlottetown roads--skirt grasped in one hand, pale legs showing in a way that Rachel Lynde would certainly scold her for--she promised herself she wouldn't squander this chance she'd been given. She was drawn to him, she was always drawn to him, as if they were tied together by an invisible thread, one that had grown stronger throughout the years--with every soft, unwavering stare from him, every bickering argument between them, and every small accidental electric touch. The tether binding them together pulled this way and that, reaching out from her very soul, its hold on her so firm now, that it only allowed her to get so far before she felt she had to turn towards him.

Scarcely an hour after scurrying to her boarding house and packing an arrant mess of a bag, she found herself on a spontaneous trip to Avonlea.

Puffing out a hot breath, Anne gave her collar a tug, pulling it away from her neck. The afternoon sun bore steadily down on her back, hot and sticky like freshly made toffee, and she was starting to feel her skin dampen and flush. 

With half an hour of brisk walking behind her, Anne had already gone over everything she could possibly say to Gilbert, and all probable conceivable scenarios that could follow--from his harrowing silence, indifference, and subsequent walking away from her-- _there was always the possibility that_ _Winifred misunderstood_ \--to something much more favourable, a soft look, like the one he'd given her in front of the fire, ending in a desperate embrace, hands reaching for each other.. _or more.._

Only one thing was for sure and certain--she had to talk to him. Her feelings for him were anchoring her down like a weight in her heart, and she felt a deep urgency to clear up the misunderstandings that had led them to a lonely existence independent of each other. Every morning, in the delightful last moments before she arose from slumber, when she was barely awake and in no way consciously in control of her thoughts, she wondered where he was, what he was doing and whether his luscious hair was pointing up every which way as it was want to do.

She wondered if Matthew and Marilla had reached Green Gables yet, she hadn't seen them since the Scottish letter. Oh, if only she'd known she was to be back today, she would have traveled with them. They had both been so supportive of her feelings for Gilbert, in fact they had been downright jubilant of her taste in men, for he, along with the Lacroix's, had become an extended part of the Cuthbert-Shirley family of late, and was dearly loved. Thoughts of her adoptive parents put a blissful smile on Anne's face, and she peeked down to make sure she was still holding the hem of her exquisite deep sea-coloured dress half a foot off the ground, as Marilla's stern words came back to her, _"Now, Anne, I'll not be mending this every few months, you best not sully the bottom of this dress, young lady!"_

Her mind wondered to the empty letter from Scotland, but she pushed it aside. _Now is not the time._

A thrill of excitement ran up her spine and she thought of the possibility of sharing her quest with Gilbert, of sharing her future quests with him, of sharing her _life_ with him. _I mustn’t get ahead of myself. It is very well to have a positive outlook, but one must always be ready for that awful odd bend in the road, paved with blossoms, that leads straight into a ditch._

The delicious, salty, summer breeze ruffled her hair, making her take a deep cleansing breath as she neared the coast. Lush, green grass crunched under her brown boots. Seagulls flocked into the water, gracefully swooping down to pick out fish, as the midday waves crashed into the ancient rocks below. Their sounds carried far and wide, mixing with that of the wind and the murmur of the trees to form a light beat that Anne could listen to forever. How magical her island was. Here, all her dreams had come true. She had found family, friends, and now.. now she had found love.

"You understand me don't you, wide world and endless sea? You are the embodiment of true love’s qualities. Unrequited!" She scoffed, placing her suitcase on the ground for a moment as she started out into the infinite blue, " _How_ could he believe that after my note. Oh, how exceedingly difficult it was to curb my fondness for exuberant language, but I managed it--for him! I thought to myself, well, Gilbert will appreciate an honest and straightforward retelling of my feelings, and so that is what I wrote. Maybe I _should_ have used all the words of nature to describe how I felt. How my love for him feels all-consuming, as if I were drowning in it, much like I almost drowned in your depths not so long ago-" she noted, watching the waves fall upon each other, "Or how it snuck upon my soul, softly and all at once, like the ocean breeze, both gentle and strong, or how sometimes my feelings burn within me like a blazing fire, and I want to run towards him and away from him all at once..” she let the air cool her blushing cheeks. “Oh, why didn't he come to me? Dearest ocean, if only the answer was hidden amongst your treasures. Alas, only Gilbert can enlighten me, and so, I must be on my way." 

The coastal wind whipped her hair around into her mouth and she pushed it aside as she resumed her odyssey. The red tresses had fallen out of their fancy updo and now tumbled down her shoulders. Leaning over, she plucked a couple wildflowers from the ground and threaded it through one of the few pins left at the back of her hair. How carrot-like her head managed to look in direct sunlight! She hoped Gilbert wouldn't find her too unkempt. Worrying about his reactions to her appearance was foreign to her, "and yet, there is some small reassurance in that I can never look worse than the day he came in asking incoherently about onions, of all things." 

"Oh! My, Anne?" 

Humoured by her own soliloquy, she hadn't heard the sound of wheels and hooves making their way towards her. Spinning around, Anne was met with the most wonderful sight--a horse and buggy cart trotting towards her slowly. 

"Mr. Lynde! Oh, how marvellous. You are a sight for sore eyes, sir! I have been desperately hoping that someone I know would happen upon me! I wouldn't say that I was giving up, but I was growing weary. How glad I am that my luck has changed. I'm on my way to the Blythe Orchard, would it be a terrible inconvenience for you to take me with you? If you would like to stop at home I no qualms about walking to the orchard from there." 

Hopping onto the cart, barely giving the jolly old man a moment to speak, she thanked him as the horse carried on its way. 

A while later the Blythe-Lacroix house came into view, and Thomas Lynde stopped. Not wasting a moment, Anne jumped off the buggy and shot off down the path, shouting a thank you behind her. Bag in hand, occasionally hitting her thigh, she ran with an urgency she couldn't quite understand, but felt in every single one of her bones. 

She had to run to him before he evanesced from her grasp completely.

As she neared the orchard, devoid of most its apples since harvest, she squinted, holding her hand up to her eyes to shade them from the sun’s rays. Adrenaline had fueled her journey so far, all her efforts racing towards this moment. But now that she was barely a few steps away, she felt nerves grasp her from behind.

Not too far away, in the corner of her eye, towards the centre of the orchard, she saw a flash of ebony. 

Gilbert.

Even in her mind, his name sounded like a happy sigh. 

He cut such a dashingly handsome figure that Anne couldn't help but stop and let her mind wonder for a moment. Shadows danced across his body as he walked amongst the apple trees in his plain farmers clothes. He touched the supple green leaves gingerly as he passed by, smiling at a butterfly twirling around him. Her mind brought up images of him holding her hand to pull her towards him. _May I speak with you please?_ A shiver ran up her spine as she _felt_ the words all over again and remembered the way he looked at her.

Surrounded by endless green foliage, lit up by the golden sun, Anne should have found him out of place amongst the softness. However, she had learnt over time that he was as gentle as those delicate leaves he tended to, as strong as the branches that they were attached to, and as tender as the apples that had been plucked off them. 

_How one's perspective changes when they allow their eyes to seek and their heart to open._

Once she had scoffed at him and his apples-- _I'm not talking to you!_ \--and now.. and now, how wonderful would it be to walk that path besides him, laughing and running around the trees? Ruby had once said that no man looked more handsome than Gilbert in a Sunday suit, and Anne had expected that to be true, however, as she gazed at him from afar--curls in disarray, skin golden from laboring in the sun, the sleeves of his white worn linen shirt pushed up to the elbows, hair messy and unkempt, his broad back sporting an unbuttoned vest thrown over suspenders that held up trousers, which were stained with sap from fruit and trees alike, at a thin waist--her breath caught, and she made up her mind that this was her absolute favourite Gilbert. The one that looked entirely like he belonged in nature with not a care in the world.

She could feel her face heat up at her gawking. A smile appeared on her lips and all of a sudden, clinging the handle of her bag tightly to her and lifting her dress off the ground again, she found herself racing down the dirt path towards him. 

The princess running at full speed towards the knight--she would have found the situation so ridiculously romantical had she a moment to stop and think precisely about what she was doing.


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert Blythe was having quite a day.

It had scarcely been a week since Miss Stacy had driven over on her brilliant motor bicycle and told him that he had gotten into the University of Toronto--how his heart had leapt as he had given his beloved teacher a crushing hug, feeling his situation finally looking up. He was to leave on the first train on the morrow, and had spent his morning gathering the last of his belongings together. The minute Gilbert had heard the news, he had embraced an ecstatic Bash, and spun little, giggling Dellie around the room. He had also managed to say his goodbyes to the Avonlea residents, at church, last Sunday. Of course, no one in town directly mentioned Winifred in front of him, but he heard the whispers every time he left a room. It was a good thing he didn't care in the slightest. Gossip didn't interest Gilbert. The Blythe-Lacoix household had even been invited over for tea the Cuthbert’s this past weekend and it was with a heavy, but proud heart, that Gilbert found out Anne, despite being woefully sad over Diana's educational fate, was flourishing at Queens. _I wouldn't have expected anything else from beautiful, intelligent Anne._

All that was left to do now was to say goodbye to the land that he and Bash had painstakingly restored back to health over the past couple years. Walking through the neat rows of apple trees that his father used to love, he silently prayed that wherever the senior Mr. Blythe was watching him from, he was proud. 

"I'm going to be the best doctor I can be, dad. I _am_ going to make a difference. I will not be deterred from my goal and I _will_ create my own opportunities. Nepotism be damned." He spoke with the conviction that only the best student--one of two--on PEI could have. Looking skyward, eyes closing to block out the bright sun, the lightest breeze filtering through the leaves and tousling his unmanageable curls, he made a silent prayer for strength. 

_You will be a wonderful doctor._

Her words, spoken with such conviction, resonated in his mind as he strolled leisurely, his thoughts turning to his conversation with Bash a fortnight ago. _You'll be glad to know that I do not intend to marry unless it's for love,_ he had told the older man, who didn't even pretend to hide his expression of relief, instead turning to his daughter joyfully, _"Ah, look Dellie, Uncle Gilby has finally seen reason seep into that thick skull of his and realized--I had been telling him this all along, mind you--that he is meant to be with your dear auntie Anne with an e--and aren't we relived? Dellie was seriously starting to question what that big brain of yours is filled with, Blythe."_ As Bash took a dish towel to the face, Dellie, the cutest traitor, cooed in agreement. 

The relief of knowing his own heart had faded as soon as he had seen Anne at Miss Stacy's for the last time. Unable to face her--not knowing how to hide his feelings, but too unsettled to articulate them--he snuck what he believed were inconspicuous glances at her freckled face from across the room, incapable of looking away for too long, as if he was being tugged towards her by an invisible force. He nearly jumped backwards into the stone wall besides him when she caught him staring the second time, and he realized with embarrassment that he wasn't as stealthy as he thought. Too skittish to check his own results, he was quite relived when Tillie had shouted them out. 

Of all the emotions that coursed through him that morning, he had been in no way prepared for how fiercely proud he felt for Anne when he heard that they had tied for first.

She had worked unimaginably hard since the day she stepped into their school--so small and ready to fight for anything she wanted. After the tie was announced, she had looked up at him with a face full of immense happiness, and he was so dumbstruck by the shine of it, that all he could do was smile back, wishing so much that she could always be that happy--and if she allowed him to be there to relish in her delight, he would without hesitation. When she had confidently offered him her hand to shake, he had felt a spark jumping between their briefly clasping palms. Gilbert knew then that he would forever have to quell his painfully strong feelings for her-- _they clearly aren’t going to fade._

His feelings had hit him like a charging horse to the face, that day he had stood, peering into the vast ocean and looking for answers. _It’s Anne. I love Anne. Naturally, it’s Anne. How could it possibly be anyone else? With that sublime hair and those intelligent, sparking eyes and that passionate temper and unmatched spirit.._ Just thinking of a life spent trying to match her spirit, had him reeling with excitement. _If only._

To think that, not but a couple weeks ago, he had been mentally patting himself on the back for finally recognizing and accurately expressing his deep-rooted feelings in written form--so much so that he was sure Anne would tell him she at least found the letter romantical if nothing else--only to come to the harrowing realization that it had meant nothing to her. _Maybe it wasn't amorous enough, poetic enough, magical enough for her. She deserved better than him, anyway. A brave, dark knight from her books perhaps, sprouting out sonnets as he showers her with jewels,_ he thought bitterly.

He had forcefully stopped himself from thinking of Anne since she had left for Queen's, knowing well enough that he might not see her again, aware that he would respect her decision for distance--but now, walking through the lively rustling trees, with the sweet smell of apples saturating the air, how could he not think of her? She was the spirit of nature herself, so in tune with the life that surrounded her--he had never seen anything like her. His mind found himself lost in the memory of her dancing near a fire, hair wild and free, alight like the flame she arose within him. He remembered how completely shook he had felt upon seeing her. She was a fire goddess and all he could do was stand there and watch her, dwarfed by how unequivocally, unabashedly _Anne_ she was. He closed his eyes briefly and let the vision of her take over.

_Thump, thump, thump, thump.._

Footsteps. He turned around, eyebrows raised. 

A flash of red, turquoise and--to Gilbert’s shock--long, pale, pink legs were barreling in his direction. _Anne?_ he blinked, a wordless rush of air leaving his lips. 

He quickly ran the last few steps between them, unable to form a coherent thought. The ex-schoolmates stopped abruptly, facing each other, brown, laced boots a few feet apart, leaves and fallen apples scattered around them.

"Anne?! What--are you okay? What's wrong? Why aren't you at Queen's? Are the Cuthberts-" 

"Gil--Gilbert!" She gasped, she dropped her suitcase with an undignified 'plop' on the grass and leaned over slightly, one hand on her chest below her white bow, and the other holding one finger up towards him, needing a moment to catch her breath. _What on earth made me think that running down to him was a good idea?_

Gilbert's heart lurched in his chest, worry etched on his features. Automatically switching to his medical-apprentice persona, he quickly raked his eyes down her body, mentally checking for any signs of injury. Once satisfied that there were none, he felt a fraction calmer and allowed his eyes to linger at the image that was Anne, in front of him, in his orchard, surrounded by his father’s trees. 

She was enchanting. 

Gleaming red hair, a little tied up--mostly down--tumbled over her shoulders, wisps of it floating around her, pale face reddened to a fascinating shade of coral from running, amplifying her already flushed cheeks and lips to a spectacular shade of red, the colour of poppies. His eyes roamed down to her slim waist and velvety, long skirt--had she always been so slight? And how could something so simple as a corset and a few extra inches of fabric make her so much more alluring? Her dress was refined and ladylike, but her hair was wild and untamed--the odd leaf sticking out of it--and Gilbert felt the breath knocked out of him. His fingers itched to tug her hair gently. Gone was the cute, skinny girl he had met in the woods so long ago, replaced by a spirited, ethereal being with an aura of light around her. She was the perfect mix of woman and dryad. 

She was everything he could ever desire.

He felt his heart swell. Blinking his wayward thoughts away, Gilbert tried to fathom what on earth Anne was doing standing in front of him, since she was not in need of medical assistance. _And looking like that--is she trying to be the literal death of me?_

"I-I, everything's f-fine. But.. Winifred-" she muttered, slightly incoherent, blue, soulful eyes wide, still inhaling the sweet apple-scented air in large amounts. "I met--Winifred." 

Hazel eyes widened at the mention of Winnie, eyebrows flying up, and mouth opening silently in shock. He rocked back on the balls of his feet as if she had physically thrown the statement at him. There was no possible way he could have prepared himself to hear those words leave her mouth, but she was here, in his orchard, not in Charlottetown, and that itself was so unexpected that he hardly knew whether he was awake or experiencing one of his vivid Anne-related dreams. 

His eyebrows knotted together, no clue what was going on, but selfishly happy to see her anyway--despite what he predicted would be an uncomfortable conversation about Winifred. Since his letter, he had deduced that she had not wanted to set her eyes on him again, so it was a small consolation, he supposed, that she was at least willing to talk to him now.

Anne, having by now regained her composure, stood up straight, flicking her hair behind her and studied him, her eyes piercing and unreadable. They stood, face to face, surrounded by serene greenery and chattering birds. They both sucked in deep breaths, taking each other in, watching the emotions of confusion and longing reflected in their expressions, tension thick and palpable--each not quite able to infer correctly what the other was thinking. 

"Winifred--she told me about your engagement, or lack thereof.. And I-I I had to come and--and speak with you..." Anne trailed off, _how is it that everything I planned to say flew out of my mind the moment I saw those soulful eyes and that blasted chin?_ Anne offered a silent apology to Marilla for cursing, she sometimes felt her adoptive mother could sense when she used foul language from miles away! 

Clear hazel eyes locked onto hers, staring intently, hand squeezed into a fist in anticipation, ever-expressive eyebrows raised slightly--waiting for her to ask him something, give him a sign, _anything_ , so he could tell her it was all a mistake and she was _everything_. The air around them felt heavier still, fueled by their growing feelings for each other and the torrid midday sun shining down on them. 

"Gilbert.. is it true?" 

He looked at a branch above her for a moment, collecting his thoughts, trying to divine what she was really asking, and then nodded, jaw clenching nervously. When finally he spoke, his voice was raspy, the words stuck in his throat, "I-I couldn't go through with it. It wasn't right." 

Anne blinked, a warmth spreading from her stomach, at his words. She slowly stepped forward-- _hang personal space_ \--their boots barely a foot apart now. 

_Breathe, Anne._

".. And--and me?" Her head tilted and voice hitched, as the ‘me’ came out squeakier than she intended.

The tension between them was tangible as a flash of melancholy passed his eyes. _She knows why I broke off the understanding between Winnie and I and probably blames herself for not reciprocating my feelings.  
_

His voice softened and he swallowed the lump in his throat, "Anne, it's all right. I promise you, it’s better this way, she and I--we weren’t truly suited for one another. Winifred wasn't what I wanted. I allowed myself to get so swept up in the possibility of Sorbonne-" he paused, touching the side of his head out of an anxious habit, where the memory of a smack pulsed, "-that I led myself astray for a while.. I know I’ve made the right choice--in all aspects."

Anne frowned. "But, your dream-"

He moved to put a hand on her arm, then caught himself and pulled it back. "Hard work will see me be the best doctor I can be. My dad would have told me that if he were here," he cut her off gently, the tiniest curve of his lips conveying the utter peace he felt regarding his decision.

His eyes swept over her face uncertainly, watching her eyelashes flutter as she understood. Hands still clenching and unclenching at his sides, he was unsure of whether he should say anymore. Had she really come all the way here to find out why he wasn't in Paris? There was a strong part of him that wanted to plead her to reconsider, to give him a chance to show her that they could be something spectacular, but what could he say that would surpass what he had said in his letter? Why repeat it all and risk pushing her further away? Gilbert did not fancy losing her completely, not when he had just gotten a minuscule part of her back.

Anne, meanwhile was going though a breadth of emotions. What of their allegedly unrequited love? Was this all a mistake? Did she quite literally run all the way to Avonlea for nothing? And how _dare_ he barely talk to her for weeks but continue to look at her like _that_! With his intense and unrelenting heated gaze. In a way that made her chest tight and her corset feel a couple sizes too small. She tore her eyes from his when it became too much to handle.

A full-blown scowl was starting to appear on her face, gaze zeroing on the undone top button of his shirt, at his smooth throat, as she saw him swallow. At least he had the decency to look afraid.

Over the years Anne had honed her temper into something far more dull and manageable, her fury somewhat fit for her age, but at certain times even she herself couldn't control the ire in her soul. This was one of those moments. She moved closer to Gilbert, their noses now inches apart. Her blue eyes were somehow brighter and darker at the same time, as they moved back up to his widened ones. With a scowl expressing her disapprobation, she unleashed the hurt she had been feeling for weeks in a torrent of irate tones.

"Do _please_ correct me if I’m wrong, but what you're saying, _Gilbert_ , is that for weeks you've been courting Winifred, believing yourself in love with her, or at least feeling for her enough to bring her to the fair, to even contemplate _proposing_ marriage--which, is no small matter--and go to Sorbonne on her father’s silk coattails--ready to leave Bash and Dellie and _all of us_ , to move halfway across the world, and--and even being so bold as to ask me to stop you--a question that was decidedly unfair to me, regardless of whatever state I was in--and then, after all this, you unexpectedly realized that you weren't _truly suited for one another_ and she was not what you desired and.. Nothing? Were you even going to tell me? Are we not friends, Gilbert? Did I imagine you whispering _just one thing_ that night? Did I not deserve to know? Was I not worthy to be updated about the going ons of the great--soon-to-be-doctor--Blythe?"

Anne’s voice had raised a few octaves by the time she was done, she could feel her face flushed in anger. Her hands had been flung about in emphasis, ending up crossed in her arms. She knew she was being a slither of a touch unfair, but she couldn't help it. The first boy she had ever loved had ignored her confessions, and she was deeply hurt. 

"Anne!" His tone was incredulous as her relentless verbal assault hit home, but he tried to keep his own temper in check. _It's no good for us both to lose our heads_ \--and when it came to arguments with Anne, Gilbert knew he had to be the patient one. He replied curtly, his voice steady. "You may relish ignoring me and keeping me at arms length, but I know you've taken notice of how often I've talked to you about significant matters pertaining to my life recently. So don’t say that I-"

Bristling at his caustic use of taken notice, her jaw dropped as she sucked in a breath. Recovering instantly, she cut him off, snapping, "So you claim, Gilbert, but lately it seems like _you_ are the one keeping _me_ at arms length! Need I remind you _who_ said congratulations to _whom_ on result day? And now this! Do you not want us to be in contact at all? Are we now to be strangers for all eternity? Passing each other at the Avonlea Christmas festivities without a word of cheer? Mentors to Dellie without so much as a how-do-you-do-"

Gilbert could feel his patience snapping. He knew she was itching for a fight, and try as he might, he couldn't help but be provoked by the energy radiating off her.

"Don't be ridiculous, Anne, you know that's not what I want!"

"Oh, do I, Gilbert? Do I?" she goaded him, stroking his anger and her own, hands on her hips, chest heaving, face inches away from his own with cheeks stained red again. His own face looked lightly flushed. His jaw clenched.

"Yes, you do!" he raised his voice slightly, wondering _how on earth_ she could possibly think he wanted to cut her out of his life after the loving things he said said to her in his correspondence.

Electricity filled the humid summer air surrounding them in a buzz. Silence stretched between them as they glared at each other, both feeling the palpable effects of their proximity to one another and the emotions that consumed them. Breaths were taken fast and slow as they glowered at each other with heated gazes that moved up and down the other's face, the fire of anger--and of a stronger, more passionate emotion--burning between them, fizzing from the tips of their fingers. 

Anne was close enough to see the light sprinkle of uneven freckles on his face, the sun highlighting his tanned skin to an attractive olive-bronze, his eyes sparkling honey-golden in its glare, strands of his hair lighting up to a warm brown that Anne felt like running her fingers through. _Good lord, this is definitely not the time, Anne!_

Part of her had craved this, without realizing it--this argument, any argument with him--it was a culmination of all her tumultuous feelings; an unhealthy, but exciting way to expose them to the world without being vulnerable. It was fire and passion, masking the pure truth that lay within.

A gust of wind blew through the trees, pushing the long tresses of Anne's ginger hair forward. Gilbert watched transfixed, as their tips grazed his face lightly, in a faint caress, achingly gentler than the harsh words they had been firing at each other. He let out a deep breath of air, his anger defusing, eyes becoming clear, and eyebrows relaxing as he studied her haunting features. 

He would miss this. 

There was nothing quite so exhilarating to Gilbert as having an argument with Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Just seeing her face heat up in vexation--cheeks coral, eyes intent on his, hands animated--and hearing her tell him exactly what she thought in that singularly and uncanny way of hers, intrigued him. His Anne had more spark in her soul than all the residents of Prince Edward Island--hell, Canada--put together. _She is not yours,_ his irritating conscience reminded him. 

The object of his unwavering affection said nothing, annoyance still on her face, eyes the brightest blue that contrasted so strikingly with the red of her hair, which itself contrasted so beautifully with the turquoise of her dress and the endless green of the orchard. She continued to look at him with lips clamped together in a thin line. She refused to be the first to speak.

Hazel eyes glanced at her apologetically, tentatively, lovingly.

"Anne.. I've started the journey from here towards Green Gables countless times over the past month.. each time with the intent of talking only with you--with the intent of-of revealing myself." He swallowed nervously, his eyes moving away from her own and following the path of freckles down her face, out of habit, then moving lower to the white bow at the base of her porcelain neck, before he forced them back up. "The only time I managed to make it all the way to the house, you weren't in it. No one was. I snuck up to your room-" He licked his oddly dry lips, a fleeting smile on his face as he remembered the flowers hanging by her bed, before his face turned apprehensive again. "-and left the pen and the note, after which I didn't--I didn't quite know how to approach you.. There's been a distance between us since that night at the ruins, and I-I was at a loss as to how it could be mended. I didn't want to alarm you further."

Anne's expression had lost its harshness with each soft word she heard. Her eyes widened slightly, red eyelashes fluttering, and hands slipping off her hips to land limply besides her. She made no sound. 

He took half a step back to gather himself, and looking away, he ran a quick hand through the hair at the back of his head as he mumbled, mostly to himself, "I guess I was too pointed after all." 

Making a decision and taking a quick, fortifying breath, he stepped back towards her, closer than before. Close enough to feel her breath on his jaw, and see every twitch of her lips. Everything stilled around them, so engrossed were they in each other--not a bird was heard or a stirring breeze was felt between them. 

"Forgive me, Anne, if my letter troubled you," he murmured gently, as he looked intently into her eyes, hoping to convey everything he felt, all the yearning and the love, through his silent stare, willing her to understand, to respond to the spark igniting between them. As his gaze danced around her face, from the freckles on her forehead to her expressive eyes and soft lips, he whispered, slightly sadly, "I should have--I should have never called you _mine_." 

As the words left him, he knew in his heart of hearts that they weren't true--he would always think of Anne as his, regardless of whether he had the right to do so or not. But it wasn't his place to say it out loud and upset her. 

Anne's eyes glossed over as the weight of the final sentence sunk in, her lips parting slightly in shock as she once again forgot how to breathe. Had she been able to move at all, she would have pinched herself. He was so, so close to her. She was overwhelmed by the _Gilbertness_ of him--by his smell, by his eyes rooting her to the spot, by his fingers that were balled into a nervous fist, and his chest that seemed to tower over her. She felt utterly suffocated by him, smothered by his presence--in the best, _most infuriating_ way possible. All she could hear was his voice, echoing quietly, persistently, in her head over the loud, irratic beating of her heart.

_I should have never called you mine._

Gilbert blinked once at her expression--her shocked silence registering as indifference to him--then let his eyes drop to the ground and reluctantly removed himself from her personal space.

Unable to face Anne again, Gilbert walked behind her and picked up her bag. With a deceivingly steady voice, he asked, "Would you like to come in and see Dellie? It's been a while since you stopped by, she’s really grown.." 

Certain that she would follow him silently, he walked back around her still body, heading towards the Blythe-Lacroix residence. A couple of metres separated them when Anne broke out of her stupor, clamping her open mouth shut. 

Gilbert willed his shoulders not to sag as the distance between them increased-- _in more ways than one_. It was infinitely easier making his peace with her lack of love for him when she wasn't standing two feet in front of him, in the most enticing dress he'd ever seen her wear, and that wonderful, _wonderful_ hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of fire he had wanted to touch and be burnt by, from the first moment he saw her, years ago, in the woods. The image of her, on this day, amongst the magical trees of the orchard, was surely seared into his brain for all eternity. _And now, after that absolute train-wreck of a conversation, I've had the ingenious idea to invite her in! Capital, Blythe. Bash is right, I am thick. How am I to look her in the face, playing with Dellie, and stop myself from leaping across the table and-and.._

_Thwack!_

An unexpected, sharp pain in his upper back shook him out of his self-deprecating tirade, as he lamented his unfortunate circumstances. Stopping abruptly, he looked down, shocked, to see a red, over-ripe apple rolling by his feet. 

Gilbert turned around, gasping in surprise. 

_Did Anne Shirley-Cuthbert just smack me square in the back with one of my bestselling apples?_

The woman in question had indeed hurled an apple at him--what an arm she had on her, he couldn't help but be proud--and was now standing with her hands clasping the sides of her dress, the beginning of a coy smile on her lips. He could see the light wind making its way through the orchard displacing loose leaves and ruffling her hair across her face and heated cheeks, her long turquoise skirt fluttering near her ankles. Confused hazel eyes met endless blue irises, and the open, honest look in them invited him in to see everything she had been masking towards him for months.

Years ago, he had offered a mesmerizing, bright-eyed, brave, freckled girl a similar apple--unbeknownst to him, he was actually pledging himself to her forever--and as she had smacked him with her slate it had rolled to the ground, rejected and forgotten. The parallels between these moments were numerous, mostly because the same girl was involved, and he was the one on the tail-end of an impending bruise. He didn't regret it then, and, as he would soon find out, he wouldn't regret it now. 

"Say it again."

Her soft, confident voice traversed the distance between them. It both set fire to his soul and acted like a balm for the pain he had been experiencing.

Gilbert moved his head slightly, mouth opening to give her whatever she wanted, without fully comprehending what it was that she was asking for; his mind equal parts muddled and blown away by the depth of feeling in her eyes. Blinking, he gazed at her unguarded face and somehow, at once, just as she had known what his three little words at the bonfire had meant, he understood what she wanted. 

His breath hitched, a shiver running up his spine, and he couldn't believe any of it. Nevertheless his heart gave him no choice but to oblige her, and he willed his voice not to waver, as the wind carried his oh-so-gentle whisper to her. 

"Anne. _My Anne with an e.._ "

His voice cracked slightly with emotion, as she stood metres away. 

And just like that, all anger was forgotten. Anne felt her heart leap a mile. With an undignified squeal and without a second thought she ran across the space that separated them and launched herself around his neck, the force of her embrace pushing him back slightly, a puff of air leaving his lips as he balanced himself. She held onto him tightly, too overcome with emotions to speak. A smile, and then a laugh, burst out of her as she pressed herself to him. 

Gilbert exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes falling closed in relief and disbelief, heart thudding every which way, as windswept red hair surrounded him, and his body was enveloped in the sweetest, most warm hug of his life. _Is this.. actually happening?_ His arms naturally closed around her neck and waist to clutch her to him, hands grasping at the turquiose velvet of her dress. They breathed each other in, all apple bark and cherry blossoms, both too overwhelmed to speak, knowing full well that this moment was the beginning of something so monumental that it would consume them both and change the course of their lives for evermore. The depth of his feelings overtook him and he groaned, pressing his face into her hair.

Anne let herself melt into his embrace, something she had not allowed herself to do the last time she had wrapped herself around him. She pinched her wrist behind him, just for good measure. What a thrill his words had given her. _How glorious to be thought of as his._ She felt her soul soar, as the ache she had felt earlier evanesced into a blinding happiness. She was most definitely giddy. This was exactly where she needed to be. Safe, loved and _craved_. She beamed to herself as she nuzzled her body closer to his chest, her nose against his musty neck.

All Gilbert could think of was Anne, all he could feel was Anne. He was so utterly surrounded by her, so completely intoxicated with everything he was feeling, that in that moment, there was nothing real to him but her. He had never felt more love for anyone than he felt in that instant. He opened his mouth to whisper her name, but all he could manage was a small chocked gulp. Every part of him in contact with her was was alight with a thousand sparks of fire, and it was all too much. The afternoon sun shone down on them surrounding them in a sultry, warm heat. Slowly, he moved, pulling back slightly to look at her. At a loss for words, all he could do was take in her freckles and her pure dimpled smile, as his hand on her waist slowly made its way up to her petal-soft cheek. Her gaze flicked down his face, before returning to his eyes, heated. Asking a question. He gasped silently, and without a second thought, did what he'd been wanting to do for days. Years even. Explanations be damned. 

There in the Blythe-Lacroix Orchard, surrounded by nature and trees and apples, Avonlea's smartest finally shared their first kiss. It was clumsy and soft at first, quickly transitioning into desperate and aching. It was everything a first kiss should be and more-- full of love, truth, passion and promises. 

In that moment, Anne felt her entire world expand. It was if a delicious new perspective on life had revealed itself to her. Every phrase and poem she had ever read about kissing suddenly made sense, but none came remotely close to the actual experience of the act. It was as if all the nerves in her entire body were based on her lips, and a luscious tingle made its way from him to every part of her. Not in Anne's wildest imaginations did she believe that there was such a way for two people to be so utterly absorbed in one another. It made her chest constrict, and her stomach flutter. She felt her toes curl and her fingers grasp his neck and thread themselves in his hair involuntarily. Anne sighed happily-- his hair _was_ indeed as soft as she imagined.

There was once a time she had thought herself too plain, too ugly to ever be kissed. And now here she was kissing _Gilbert_ of all people. The smartest, most handsome boy in school. The boy who called her carrots. The boy who got on her nerves.

The man who made her feel like fire.

They pulled back slowly, noses grazing and hands still clutching each other. Their dimpled smiles, flushed cheeks and breathy gulps of air mirrored each other. Anne bit her lip, a sudden shyness sweeping over her, as Gilbert raised a teasing eyebrow, looking rather pleased with himself.

She giggled as he chuckled, and then they both spoke at once, their words identical.

"Why didn't you respond to my letter?"

And then--"What?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written some more dialogue for this, if anyone wants to read it, I'll put it up as soon as I can! x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got away from me again! I just couldn't seem to find the end, until I figured it was quite long enough--10k? Seriously? I hope this chapter doesn't feel too dragged out!
> 
> This is rather more full of dialogue than the other two. As always, please ignore all sleep deprived errors.

Laughing slightly, they pulled back further from each other, still rather dazed. Anne's arms loosened where they still hung off Gilbert's neck and she glanced up at him, befuddled.

"You first," the young man said, ever chivalrous, his gaze upon her, unwavering.

Anne's smile widened at his slight blush and the tenderness in his bright hazel eyes. _What lovely eyes he has--deep and shimmering just as the Lake of Shining Waters; warm, golden and grassy green like the trees that paved lovers lane, and so intelligent with just the right spark of mirth in them!_

She blinked, blue eyes fluttering, realized he was waiting for her to speak, and refocused on the task at hand. The task being to explain, to her dear Gilbert, what a terrible wicked fate she had forced upon his apparently beautiful, romantical letter--a letter in which he _called her his._

 _Ugh, curse my temper!_ Anne thought, annoyed at herself, chewing her lower lip in consternation. _This is it--this is when he finds out how utterly away with the fairies I am, and withdraws from me forever.. maybe this is the true start of my tragical romance._ She winced slightly, unable to stop her thoughts from turning grave.

Gilbert, ever the patient one between them, watched Anne while the expressions on her face changed dramatically. Her cheeks were still flushed red from their proximity, and the wind had swept her hair into a slightly airy state. _How incredibly lucky am I to see her like this--and because of me._ A shiver of happiness ran up his spine.

It was cute, he thought, how she looked worried about telling him what had become of his letter. As if anything could compel him to leave her _now_. Nevertheless he waited for the freckled girl to finish her internal monologue with his eyebrows raised slightly, a tiny smile gracing his lips.

Steeling herself, Anne took a deep breath and allowed the words to spill out of her in a hurry; her tone slightly desperate. "I-I didn't know! I didn't realize the letter was--the truth of the matter is, well, you know about my infamous temper-”

“Yes, we’ve been acquainted,” he chuckled, earning him a sharp tug to the hair at the back of his neck, as the red-head in his arms rambled on.

“It can be a tad inconvenient sometimes--this would be a prime example of one of those times--in this case I was so utterly enraged that you hadn't had the courage to face me, convinced that that was a sign of how-how unimportant I was to you--that I-I ripped up your heartfelt words and promptly disposed of them straight out the window-"

Gilbert's ever-animated eyebrows almost disappeared under his curls as he laughed in disbelief, still shaken by everything that was happening, "W-what?"

Anne continued, not really hearing him, trying to hide her own mortification, "Right under the snow queen’s nose--she’s my cherry tree--I regretted it _instantly_ and flew down the stairs to pick up the pieces, but I couldn't possibly find them all in the grass, and-and when I tried to piece together what I found, my traitorous brain decided I deserved to be punished and interpreted it all fearfully badly! It was quite a spectacle." Her eyebrows furrowed. "In hindsight I can see how those words might have been positive had I arranged them in a more rational manner.. Oh, I _am_ sorry! Had I not been so terribly hot-headed, your beautiful letter would have been read--and let me tell you, that truly is the worst punishment, the fact that I will always know it existed and that only my own misguided ire kept it from me. I could not fault you, if you are angry with me."

Gilbert knew that part of him should be saddened that she would never read his heartfelt words, so pure and straight from his soul, but really how could he? She was here. Quite literally in his arms. And all was not lost--he _did_ remember some of what he wrote.

Anne started to pull down one of the arms that looped around his neck, when he reached up with a firm hand and stopped it from sliding off him. Noticing the penitent expression on her face as she looked to the ground, boot scuffing the grass beneath her, Gilbert smiled, raising a finger to her chin, nudging it gently upwards.

"Anne, it's water under the bridge."

Anne stared into his twinkling hazel eyes and allowed a dopey smile to grow on her face, dimples winking at him. She watched the softening rays of the sun light up his hair, and her gaze lingered on the rows of trees behind him. “Is this not the most deliciously romantical place to start our journey together? Greenery, blossoms, the gentle heat of the sun.. We are surrounded by apples! It is all so achingly fitting.” She sighed happily, “We have come a long way since that particular meeting in Charlottetown." she said out loud.

Gilbert hummed in response, content to just listen to her with a smile, his eyes scrunching up at the corners, charmingly, as he did so. Placing both hands on her waist again and he easily pulled her up on to her tiptoes, bringing their faces together, noses touching.

“Anne, I-”

He was robbed the chance of completing his sentence as Anne, suddenly remembering her own correspondence, rolled back onto the balls of her feet and used her hands to clutch the two open sides of his brown vest. Tilting her head back, her blue eyes were curious and slightly cross, "Wait, Gilbert, whyever didn't you say anything to me about my letter before writing your own? I did write first you know.. Especially if you felt the same way-"

"What letter?"

His eyes concentrated on her face, brows knotted. He looked as flummoxed as she had ever seen him. Firm hands clamped tighter back around her waist as she moved further back to look at him properly, not willing to let her break contact completely.

Anne blinked, perplexed.

"Anne, what letter?" Hazel eyes searched hers frantically.

"I-I.. My note to you? I put it on the kitchen table last week, before the Queen's results came out.. about my feelings for you--that I was confused at the ruins? But-but I'm not anymore?.. Isn't that why you brought my pen back?"

"Anne, I swear to you I received no letter." Large hands moved to her cheeks, dwarfing her face, warmth emitting from his fingers, thumbs moving slightly, "You have to believe that if I had any inkling that you felt anything for me I would have dropped everything, no matter what state I was in, and ran over to Green Gables and done _this_ ages ago." His words were all spoken in a rush, willing her to believe him, gaze boring into hers, brows raised slightly, hands grazing her jaw at the word _this_. He took her by surprise when he moved in to give her a quick peck on the lips. Then another, and another, each a fraction longer than the last.

He pulled back finally, thumbs brushing her cheeks in unison.

"Oh. _Well_."

Her words came out as a whisper. She took in an unsteady breath as a beautiful, dimpled smile slowly crept up on her face. They stared at one another, smiles wide, eyes bright, both piecing together the misunderstandings that had taken place, skin flush with emotion in the light of the sun, boots touching, blue eyes meeting hazel, rough hands on soft cheeks, and discarded apples underfoot.

Anne’s mind wondered to the ridiculousness of their lost letters and all at once a loud laugh burst out of her. Barely a second later, Gilbert joined in, unable to look at her face so close to his own and not be pulled in by her joyful laughter. Their laughs carried happily around the orchard, mixing in with the soft sounds of the summer air and chirping birds.

"How l-lucky we are that our disastrous handling of personal correspondence hasn’t lead to our ruin!" Anne gasped, still giggling, wiping the tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes, "I always dreamt about a secret correspondence with a dark and handsome suitor. I cannot believe I ripped the words of your heart up and you lost mine! We are such geese." She laughed and smacked her forehead with her palm, as her other hand rested on his arm.

"As I recall, I didn't receive my letter at all, so I couldn't strictly lose it--whereas you on the other hand, held my soulful words in your very soft, capable hands, before you decided they belonged out the window--so really, you're a goose on your own." Gilbert teased, a twinkle in his eye, as he took her hand in his and pulled her into a walk.

Anne gasped, elbowing him in the ribs, "How dare you! I left it on the kitchen table with your name on it! How was I supposed to know that wasn't the place to leave love letters? What _is_ the protocol for this sort of thing anyway? I couldn't very well sneak around the house, walking into your room like you did mine--I do not even know where your room is. Imagine, if I accidentally left it on Bash's pillow instead! That would be _positively_ mortifying."

Laughing and flushing at the thought, Gilbert rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb. Resting against an apple tree, facing away from the house, he pulled Anne to stand in front of him. They grinned at each other, lopsidedly, shaking their heads, both realizing they had unknowingly created issues that could have been prevented by just talking to each other.

"I concede," the young man said, "maybe we dodged a bullet after all--I would have _never_ heard the end of that.. As it is, Bash's going to be insufferable when he hears about us! You are his favourite tool of torment. He's been saying I’ve been in love with you since the first letter on the ship, and he's been trying to get me to admit it ever since. If it wasn't so impossible to hide it, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction," Gilbert huffed, jaw setting in annoyance.

Anne felt her heart jump a beat at the first mention of love fell from Gilbert's lips, and swallowed the emotion caught in her throat.

"We are quite the absurd pair-" She leant her head on his chest under the shade of the tree, "lovelorn, missing letters, tragically romantic dances, confusing feelings, unrequited love.."

She felt his chuckle reverberate in his chest, under her cheek, "Don't forget fallen apples, slates to the head, fierce spelling bees and confessions to pirates by firelight."

Anne snorted, "Confessions to drunken pirates, you mean."

"Drunken pirates?" he raised his ever-emotive eyebrows.

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes, "Really, Gilbert, if you cannot tell an inebriated person from a lucid one, I'm not sure there's much hope for you in the medical field. I cannot speak from a position of complete medicinal authority, but it seems to me that the ability to make the distinction between one and the other must be part of the basic pre-college know-how they expect you to walk in with."

Anne smirked as Gilbert’s hazel eyes opened entertainingly wide, his mouth mirroring that action before his teeth clamped down on his lower lip, and his eyes flashed in a moment of understanding and then embarrassment. "Is that why I couldn't understand a single word you said after I--Good lord, Anne. I'm sorry! You must have felt so ambushed! As it is, I know I did you a disservice by not speaking to you openly, I was so wrapped up in my own feelings that I-"

"Yes, you were--and part of me was so muddled up that I wasn't even sure _what_ those feelings were, let alone _who_ I was! The only thing I was certain of was that you were you.. And the fire made your eyes look molten gold. I also seem to have had the overwhelming feeling of wanting to do _this_." She finished off by smiling mischievously and moving a hand up to his hair, feathering her fingers through the soft curls above his forehead before pulling back.

His looked at her fondly, eyes dreamy, his mind wondering back to that night--back to feeling like the smallest thing in the universe, staring up at Anne and the intense light radiating from her. One of his own hands reached the tips of her long hair, twirled the end of a red strand around its finger and tugged gently. His voice softened, "It seems we had similar thoughts in that regard.” He swallowed, smiled sheepishly, “Anne, you were the most enchanting red-headed pirate queen I had ever seen.. Maybe I was drunk, because when I first saw you, you were a fire goddess. Ethereal, passionate, burning, with joyous laughter that echoed through the woods. I was so utterly drawn to you, for a few precious minutes the entire world faded away, and all that remained was us and this-this halo of fire around you."

A small puff of air escaped Anne's mouth as she gaped at him in surprise, shocked to hear of anyone thinking her _ethereal_ , suddenly feeling quite shy, and then let out a breathy giggle of disbelief, burying her head into his chest. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, Gilbert’s fingers playing with the wildflowers she had strung through her hair by the coast, Anne playing with the button on his vest.

“I wasn’t able to stop thinking about our conversation on the log,” her voice was muffled by his linen shirt, “the way you looked at me, it stayed with me all night. Your voice followed me as i slept. I never thought I’d ever be looked at that way.. I was so confused by it all, especially by my feelings, and I refused to let myself jeopardize your future without knowing my own heart, by the time I knew it, you seemed to have-”

His hand made it’s way down her hair to her freckled face slowly. It meant so much to him that she was finally, _finally_ revealing her thoughts to him. How many times had he looked at her across the classroom and wondered what she was thinking?

"Blythe!"

Gilbert froze against the tree, head reclining backwards against the bark, a frustrated groan escaping his mouth. Here we go. He would have teased Anne for the way she leapt a foot away from him, quite comically, if Bash's face didn't appear in front of them that instant.

"There's an extremely vexed Mrs. Lynde looking for you and a certain young lady friend of ours, even though I said-"

He stopped, taking in the increasingly flushed faces of the two teenagers. He blinked, eyes wide and darting between the two. As his brain brought him up to speed, a wide, smug grin made its way across his handsome face.

Sebastian Lacroix was lucky enough to have a great many things in his life to be happy about, starting with his beautiful baby daughter Delphine. Nevertheless, it was irrevocably true that it had been hard for him to be exceedingly happy since his beloved Mary had left this world. So when Bash found out Gilbert was going to be leaving, studying thousands of miles away, with the bright but proper Miss Winifred Rose, his heart had ached a little. It ached, selfishly, for himself, for the loss of a close brother and ally--Bash knew how difficult it would be for his pasty best friend to travel home frequently--it ached for his daughter, who would grow up without her loving uncle, but most of all it ached for Gilbert. Gilbert who loved so completely, so gently, and in his loneliness, was making a rash choice about his entire future. There was a spark between the white boy and Anne, that reminded Bash of himself and Mary. That being beside the fact that not a day went by without Gilbert mentioning the Cuthbert’s girl--whether it be about the pen she let him borrow, how her red-headed temper had unleashed itself impressively against Billy, or a witty remark she had thrown his way. Regardless of his apprehension, when the young boy had stated that Anne was _behind him,_ Sebastien nodded in pseudo-agreement. There was no other option, for the Trinidadian native had promised himself--when Gilbert brought him back to Avonlea, as his family--that he would always support his white brother, through thick and thin, through laughs and tears--and now, through blondes and reds. The result being that Bash found himself quiet and positive about the engagement on the outside, but melancholy on the inside. Only Mary, who he talked to every morning, on the hill near the house, knew where his true sentiments lay.

Thus, even Gilbert couldn't fully predict Bash's vigorous exultation when he realized--both of the fresh graduates could barely look him in the eye--that Mrs Lynde was correct, something suspect was going on between the two.

And he damn well wasn't going to stop it.

"Ohhhh-ho-hooo!" Bash let out a hoot of joy, jumping almost a foot clear off the ground and holding his closed fist to his mouth in surprise. "I knew it! I kneeeeeew it! Hallelujah, brother!"

Doing a little jig, he gleefully skipped towards the two--whose eyebrows were, for once, raised equally as high as the other’s--sliding in the space between their bodies and pulling them to his sides for a fierce hug. Anne giggled at Bash’s positively giddy attitude, her cheek pressed into his shoulder, rather amused by this turn of events--secretly happy that Gilbert had been telling his family about her.

“Anne--whimsical, delightful, angelic Anne with an e. Thank you, thank you for taking pity on this sad, skinny, little mook. You have no idea how much pining Dellie and I have had to bear! Staring at that shell all day, moping around, drinking wild amounts of tea in nothing but his suspenders-"

"Bash!" Gilbert objected, embarrassed--especially since the little white shell was currently sitting, quite snugly, in his trouser pocket.

"Oh, no, no, no, you are going to let me have this! In fact-" Bash turned his head to look at his aforementioned brother--in everything but blood--a glint in his eye, “I’d like you to say it, Blythe.”

He request was met with a groan of protest, “Of course you would."

“I would like to hear you say it as well!” Anne seconded, as two pairs of eyes looked at her, “What? If Bash here wants to hear it, it must be good.”

Bash grinned, turning to his companion expectedly.

“ _Fine_.. You win.” Gilbert responded dryly, a wry smile on his face.

“I WIN!” Bash exclaimed, confirming his triumph, hands once again in the air, pulling one of Gilbert's arms and one of Anne's up with this own--so that the three of them stood hand in hand, arms raised towards the sky ridiculously, for a couple of amusing moments.

“Does that mean you lose?” Anne questioned curiously, still giggling as she peered around to look at the shorter one of the two.

Gilbert's eyes roamed over her beautiful, confused face--the freckles on her nose darker in the sun, the white flowers threaded haphazardly in her ginger hair, eager crystal eyes blinking at him--and a slow, genuine smile made its way across his lips, “Oh, no, I definitely win.”

"Blythe, here, has won so hard, he is defaulting all wins to me for the foreseeable future." Bash quipped.

Anne huffed, about to argue and warn the men to tell her straight what on earth they were talking about, when a shrill voice was heard in the distance.

“Sebastian! Gilbert! _Anne Shirley-Cuthbert_ , I know you’re out here somewhere, young lady! You bring your impetuous flame-headed self back to the house this instant!"

“Mrs Lynde!” Anne and Gilbert whispered simultaneously, looking exaggeratedly petrified--thus was the effect of the woman on the young Avonlea-folk--as they gaped at each other around Bash. The last thing they wanted was to have to explain their burgeoning romance to the self-proclaimed biggest gossip in town. The two turned to look at the dark-skinned man between them, expressions pleading.

Rolling his eyes, Bash shooed them towards the woods with his hands, “Get going you two. Your stares are giving me a toothache, and I don’t have many to spare. I’m truly glad this is the way things turned out. Anne, try not to murder him, he means well.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Anne squeezed Bash’s palm in gratitude. He tipped his hat, his heart warming as he saw Gilbert glance lovingly at Anne, and Anne actually glance lovingly _back_. He erased the grin off his face before he jogged towards the house to face a disgruntled Rachel Lynde standing at the door.

“Sebastian! I demand to know what is going on this instant! I know those two are gallivanting in the orchard somewhere--she’s probably tempted that poor Gilbert up a tree! Heaven knows what they’ve gotten up to. It is simply not proper.” Rachel Lynde could not help but be concerned. “Running over to the Blythe Orchard, hair open and in disarray, skirt pulled high above her ankles, to see _Gilbert_ \--that is the gist of what Mr Lynde had said! Now does that sound appropriate to you? Well, does it?”

In fact, poor innocent Mr Lynde had said nothing incriminating about Anne, however his wife was not only shrewd, but an avid connector of the dots--especially when the dots were people and the connections were oddities in behaviour--and she had certainly seen the way those two snuck glaces at each other.

“I don’t rightly know ma’am. But I assure you, they ain’t on the property. Come, I need your expert child-raising advice to break an impasse with mother about Dellie's feeding habits.”

“You cannot deter me, Sebastian, just wait till Marilla hears about this! Hmph.. Very well, take me to your precious child. Your mother is a good woman, however--and I you know I get no joy out of saying this--some of her ideas are rather.. outlandish.”

Meanwhile, back behind a large apple tree, Gilbert’s eyes twinkled almost mossy green in the light as he held out his hand to Anne. “I believe there’s time for a mini-adventure before tea. Ready to escape Avonlea society together?”

“Always.”

She placed her lightly freckled palm against the one he was holding out to her, enjoying the wonderful little spark buzzing up her arm, letting herself be pulled forward, and then on her tiptoes, until they were a breath apart, their hands the only parts of them in contact. A mischievous look came upon her rosy features, as her eyes wandered over his face, and she saw his breath hitch when she nuzzled her nose with his, “Actually, I think I’ll just..”

Abruptly, she pulled her hand back.

“Race you to the brook!”

Before he had registered what was happening, she had shot through the apple trees, her soft, gleeful laugh resounding behind her.

Gilbert, startled by the sudden flash of her ivory legs as she hiked up her skirt, took a moment to shake his head before running after his red-haired nymph. The two stifled loud laughs as they heard Mrs Lynde berating Bash, while they weaved in and out the trees, the voices behind them growing fainter and fainter as they fled the orchard.

Their able legs took them all the way past the cemetery, Anne’s joyous laughter getting louder as she ran, careful not to trip or let her dress touch the ground. _It certainly is a bother running in these long skirts!_ And how scandalous it was to ran with a boy into the woods! _But_ , she reminded herself, _it is Gilbert--_ and oh, how marvelously free she felt. The wind blew, pulling most of her hair out of its last confines--until all that was left was a little knot and a few coastal flowers--and filled her lungs with the cleansing smell of the forest ahead. She could hear GIlbert’s own hearty laugh behind her, the distance between them diminishing faster by the second.

“You’re no match for me, Gilbert Blythe!” She taunted playfully, as her hair whipped around her. Brown leather boots thudded down the field in unison.

“Is that so? Seems to me, I’m the only soul who could possibly match you.”

She heard him speed up, mirth in his tone. He moved ahead of her, looking back and grinning.. and tripped slightly on a raised patch of grass, arms flinging around for balance, catching himself before he hit the ground.

Anne laughed, tears in her eyes as she gained back the lead.

“See you!” She shouted as she passed by her curly-haired match, in every way, her heart thudding faster, adrenaline coursing through her, while her competitive nature drove her to accelerate.

They neared the shadowy forests, almost toe in toe.

Slowing down as she stepped under the cool shade of the forest canopy, one hand against the bark of a young tree, she heard him fork behind her and follow another route in. She saw flashes of his form amidst the branches as they both carefully bounded down towards their destination.

Anne always thought summer to be a magical time of the year, but summer in the forests of Avonlea, she found incomparable to anything else she had ever seen. Everywhere she looked, she found another hidden story. She could scarcely fathom all the beings, real or imaginary that graced the woods at this bewitching time of the year, and she was certain that she would never get used to the vivid colours and soothing tones that appeared during the season. The sun’s rays filtered through the lightly-moving branches of the trees casting soft animated shadows on everything below. Blossoms were out in full bloom, their sweet floral smells intermingling magnificently. The bushes were alive with all sorts of God’s creatures, both great and small--well, mostly small. Pollen flew around the air, as bees buzzed around. The scent of fresh grass and leafy greens purged her lungs and mind of all negativities.

Currently, the lazy afternoon hours meant that the chirping of birds were few and far between as everything was blanketed in a hazy golden light. Had Anne not been so set on racing to the brook, she would have stopped, smelt the flowers, and even had a conversation or two with the wise, old trees that dwelled in the area.

“If you win, I hope you know it’s only because you’ve been blessed--due to no effort on your part--with belonging to a gender that’s allowed to wear trousers in polite society!” She called out in Gilbert's general direction, as she hopped over an overground root.

The deep baritone of his laugh and the crunch of his feet on the forest ground carried along the air towards her. She could almost see his silhouette in the distance if she squinted.

“I hope you know that I am always ready to compete with you, Carrots, in whatever state you so desire; politely or impolitely,” came his flirtatious retort through the woodland.

“Gilbert Blythe! Don’t think I won’t find something hard to smack you upside the head with, for bringing back that infernal name!” She countered, laughing herself.

The woods became more dense and Anne found herself slowing down to a brisk walk, ducking under low branches. Turning her face to the right momentarily, she scanned the trees-- she had seemed to have lost track of her curly-haired young man. Rolling her eyes, refusing to be distracted, she made her way through the lazy late-afternoon forest.

Spotting the brook ahead, she skipped towards it, pausing at the edge of the forest cover, panting softly from running and pulling her hair away from her neck. The cool air from the water ahead calmed her flushed skin. Her boots dug into the damp ground as she stopped in the trees, eyes looking around the makeshift plank-bridge of sorts, searching suspiciously for Gilbert.

“If you jump out at me, so help me God-” Anne threatened loudly, face looking upwards, past the tall trees into the endless blue sky, when she felt two strong arms circling her waist from behind, the heat from their contact seeping through her dress. A solid chest lightly grazed her own, as a face slid besides hers, lips against her ear, as a slightly out of breath voice spoke.

“Got you.”

 _Why does his voice always sound like soft, velvety butter?_ All teasing thoughts flew out of her head as his musky scent surrounded her, his nose buried in her flowing hair. She had surely never been so elated to be caught by anyone in her entire life. Standing at the outer edge of the clearing, the shadows of the tree tops above made their hold feel all the more private. The mere thought of the multitude of delicious moments to come between them, in the future, sent a thrill up her spine.

“You do know that is not what we were running for,” she leaned back a fraction, her voice light, wisps of her hair tickling his neck.

“It’s a good thing I’m not talking about the race,” he murmured.

She felt a fluttering in her chest as a breathy, “oh”, escaped her.

Gilbert’s eyes closed for a second and he smiled to himself, taking in her _Anneness_ , the soft movement of the water ahead of them, and the happiness spreading from heart. There was so much to ponder over, to plan for, to experience--but right now all he wanted to do was be. For the first time in months, he felt _young_. Running through the woods, laughing as if nothing else mattered.. How was it that he had forgotten how to sincerely enjoy himself?

“So, Gilbert, may I tempt you up a tree?” Anne's breathy voice teased, and she boldly placed a slightly trembling hand on top of his, at her waist, as he held her, the top half of their bodies almost joint together.

“You could tempt me atop the school roof, Anne, if you set your mind to it--though I fear your pretty dress would not appreciate it," as he spoke, he slipped two fingers under her sleeve, above her wrist, caressing the white lace between his fingers and thumb. Her face felt hot at the simple gesture, his knuckles lightly touching her pulse point, making her skin tingle uncontrollably.

They had hugged twice, and yet, the way he held her now felt far more intimate. Mayhap it was the fact that she could feel his jaw move against her as he spoke, or the way that his faint touch on her wrist contrasted the delicious entrapment of his strong arms and lean chest so poetically--either way, Anne felt as thrilled as she felt concerned by how much she wanted to burrow herself in his embrace and not resurface until the end of the day.

“Dresses seem to have been invented to stop women from having fun," she grumbled, as the amused boy's eyes lit up. "Alas, Marilla _would_ have my head if I ruined this, and I would never forgive myself.”

Gilbert's chuckle sounded softly in her ear. They watched the water slowly gush by, in a myriad of blues and greens, the occasional fish spotted in the unhurried current. Together they let themselves feel nothing but the moment at hand, the rustle of the trees around them, and the feel of the other's bodies delicately touching their own, heat permeating through thin linen and rich velvet.

At length, Gilbert spoke, his voice sounding less confident as usual, jaw settling into a clench after he spoke.

"Anne, did you truly come all this way from Charlottetown to see me?"

"I truly did." She twisted her head and looked at his side profile, her eyes bright with affection and voice animated, "I practically ran here as soon as Winifred told me your engagement was a thing of fiction. You should have seen me Gilbert, trying to run as fast as I could in those divine lady-boots, which, it turns out, aren't quite made for running across the country to make romantic confessions, thankfully, I did manage to swap them for my trusty old boots before riding the train..” Her voice softened, “I had to know if there was a chance for us."

Gilbert smiled, looking sideways at the girl who had become everything to him, nose scrunching happily, remembering a moment in his kitchen with Bash, the morning after the ruins, when he himself had said something similar.

As she watched the expressions change on his face, an overwhelming feeling of affection flooded her. Her body turned around in his arms slowly as clarity pushed out the fog from her mind. She looked up at him, blue pools blinking into hazel warmth, as she took in his frame, slightly towering over her, his face, freckles so light and sparse that they looked like sprinkled brown sugar, and his expression, full of adoration. Magical dandelion seeds flew around them like little faeries. She placed her right hand on his chest, feeling the quiet, steady beating of his heart under her fingertips. A mixture of a confusion and wonderment set upon her face as she allowed herself to feel and not think, a glaring truth suddenly revealed to her.

Gilbert waited, curious, as she licked her lips, staring at her hand on his striped shirt, slightly nervous, but not at all hesitant.

Her voice was low and intimate, as her fingers stroked the fabric beneath them involuntarily. “There’s a bond between us. Kindred. _Family_. It’s such a tug.. I feel it deep in my soul. It’s ancient and magical and powerful. It’s scintillating light from a thousand beautiful fireflies, and the electric charge of a most formidable lightning bolt in the middle of the enchanted woods.. As if-as if our spirits met long ago, and were waiting for our lives to catch up." She swallowed, her bluest-of-blue eyes moving up to his. "It's thrilling, intoxicating, elemental and I cannot wait to explore it with you, Gilbert Blythe.” Her eyes held his, unguarded, as she whispered the last sentence.

Gilbert's heart thudded and his breath caught for a second, internalizing the weight of her words. It was as if she had reached into him and eloquently expressed his own thoughts. He had felt the tether between them too, but he never would have hoped, even in his wildest dreams of her, that she would recognize it so soon. He leant down, bringing their faces to within a breath of each other, noses barely touching, and lifted his arms to her shoulders, nudging her a step backwards slowly, until her back was against a tree. His voice was a husky whisper when he spoke, repeated rather, in slight disbelief as his eyes searched hers.

“We're kindred.. "

“Kindred spirits," she affirmed, her eyes vulnerable and honest. "We always were, I think.. I just refused to see it.”

His looked at her, really looked, his eyes a soft, liquid hazel. This spectacular slip of a girl--woman--who had always been so circumspect when it came to him, so reluctant to think well of him, had suddenly opened up and let him in so unreservedly. All he could think of was how incredibly worth the wait she was. All those times of banter, of pain and frustration, all of it was worth these new moments of clarity with Anne.

He lifted his fingers to her face, his touch painfully light and delicate, running down her cheeks and joining freckles to make patterns that rivaled the stars. He brushed two fingers across her cheekbone, back towards her ear, a whisper of a touch, pushing the red tendrils of hair away from her face, and moved forward to press the lightest, most soft kiss against her temple. Anne sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering closed, as his mouth moved down slowly, grazing her skin, and pressed another kiss on her flushed cheek.

"Lovely, " he murmured.

Anne gasped a little, and quite happily, biting her lip, his breath tickling her ear.

Gilbert moved his face back a little, taking in her expression of delight and surprise, his eyes lingering on the alluring freckles scattered over her skin, all of a slightly different opacity against the white canvas beneath. Shadows from the lightly-swaying branches above danced on her pale skin. Her long red hair almost reached her waist, engulfing her in an enchanting sea of reds and oranges. He almost couldn't speak with how elated he was to just be allowed this close to her. He saw her teeth release her lip, eyes still shut and breath still coming out in slow puffs. He felt her dainty hands slowly move to the heated skin of his forearms, and inch up his cloth-covered shoulders gradually, as if she herself were committing him to memory. Her spry fingers reached the skin of his collar, and followed the curve of his bare neck, where light freckles dusted his own skin, causing him to involuntarily shiver, before they threaded themselves in his dark hair. Blue eyes bore into his as she finally opened them for a seemingly endless moment, before sliding them closed and tugging his lips down to hers.

While their first kisses had been tentative and more about the overwhelming feeling of finally being together, these were of a deeper kind--about exploration and longing. About faint gasps, searing grasps and sultry summer heat. Before the world faded away, Gilbert had one final thought.

_Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is a passionate individual, alright._

There was not much talking for quite a while after that, but at length Gilbert finally pulled away slightly, panting, his forehead leaning forward against the bark besides Anne’s head, one arm still around her waist, the other pressed against the tree.

“Seems I’ve found a way to startle you into silence,” he spoke to the bark, chest heaving.

“I don’t think I shall ever get used to that,” her voice was a faint gasp, as she let herself enjoy the tingles roaming her body.

“Good, I wouldn't want you to.”

Anne smacked his curved back lightly with her hand for his impertinence. Gilbert straightened up, his cheeks equally as flushed as hers, bodies buzzing with warmth.

“Come on, I’m in sudden and desperate need of some cooling down,” he smiled cheekily, as he threaded their fingers together, pulling her towards the plank bridge, and only stopping once they got to the middle.

“Here. Take off your boots.” A frown appeared on his face as he looked down, past yards of vivid fabric, realizing how physically difficult that would be for her. “Oh. May I-?”

Before Anne could nod, which she had just been able to do--right after she snapped her surprised mouth shut--Gilbert was crouched on the ground, hands suspended above the hem of her skirt, looking up expectedly, waiting for her signal. When he got the wordless affirmation he wanted, he lifted her dress, just a little, and stopped.

 _Blythe, you’ve delivered a baby, you are not going to go weak at the view of Anne’s cloth-covered legs!_ Due to reasons he refused to give importance to, the voice inside his head was decidedly Bash’s.

Snapping out of his trance, he unlaced the first of her boots.

Meanwhile, Anne was very much enjoying herself. _Who would have thought that Gilbert Blythe would be uniting my boots? And that I would let him? If the younger Anne could see me now, she would think me positively mad! She would definitely hit me with something._ She placed a hand over her mouth to hold in a giggle. His touch near her ankle was fleeting, but goosebumps traveled all the way up her legs, all the same. She watched his ebony curls still as he pulled the second boot off as she wiggled her toes.

“Uh, y-your, uh, stockings?”, she blushed as he realized he was looking straight at her legs, his cheeks colouring brightly.

 _Why on earth did I make that sound like a question?_ Gilbert berated himself, embarrassed.

“I’ve got it, just, um, turn around.”

He stood up, and did as she asked, both unable to meet the other’s eye. As Anne lifted her dress to remove the long, white, offending garments, Gilbert unlaced his own leather boots and pulled off his own socks. When they were both barefoot, he tugged towards him with a smile, and they sat down side by side on the edge of the wooden walkway, mere inches apart. Gilbert tried not to stare as Anne raised her dress carefully away from the water, legs bare.

The nymph besides him moaned happily as her feet broke the surface of the cool water.

“Oh, I’ve missed this! I absolutely must find a secluded stream near Queens. It is all together far too hot this summer," she exclaimed, her hand grazing the back of her neck and moving all her hair to one shoulder.

Her dimpled smile stole his attention as he asked her questions about her new home. As they talked, the pair moved closer together, a red-head leaning against a sinewy shoulder, thigh against thigh as their feet swayed to and fro in the stream. Anne was just as content talking about Queen’s as Gilbert was to listen to her speak about it, and they chatted happily.

"I'm required to go back at first light, since classes start tomorrow! I left a note to say I was to stay at Green Gables for the night, as a matter of great urgency, which, I conclude that matters of the heart always are. But Mrs. Blackmore is quite the strict old crow--you'll come to experience her temperament first hand of course, when you, uh--that is, if you'd like to--to come to visit me.."

"Anne," his voice firm, but his lips curling at the edges, nudging her ankle with his toe, under the water, "I will be there whenever I am able to, without hesitation."

Relief filled her and she bit her lower lip with a smile, her fingers following the grooves in the planks that made up the bridge.

"And,” he continued, “I know you don't need an escort, Anne, but if you're open to it, I'd very much like _you_ to escort _me_ to Charlottetown tomorrow."

Eyebrows raised, Anne twisted her body to look up at him, "Oh? And just where are you going?"

"Toronto! Miss Stacy's friend put in the good word for me and I got in to the University of Toronto!"

"Gilbert!”

All of a sudden, the Toronto-bound future-medic found himself propelled into the water from behind. Luckily for him, the height of the torrent was barely mid calf, hence the unexpected shove found him landing on his feet, a little wet, surprised and laughing.

He turned around and stood in front of her, the bottom of his trousers wet, which sent Anne into a laughing fit at his astonished expression and soaked clothes. She continued to chide him as her laughter died down, “I should shove you face-first into the lake of shining waters for not telling me until now! You are lucky we’re only at this wonderful albeit small brook, and that I am altogether too proud of you to do so. Toronto! Gilbert! That’s utterly marvelous!" she squealed, overjoyed, and reached forward to pull his shoulders to her in an affectionate squeeze.

“Only you, Anne, could throw a man off a bridge before telling him how proud of him you are, as you hug the life out of him,” his amused voice was muffled in her hair.

“Don’t be melodramatic, Gilbert, this is hardly a bridge, and I gave you a gentle nudge is all.”

He was about to respond with a snort, when Anne smiled softly, her voice achingly proud of him. "Medical school, Gilbert! How do you feel?"

He couldn't remember the last time someone asked him how he felt. Overcome with the emotion that her question generated inside him, he swallowed, his eyes fluttering as he allowed himself to get completely lost in the feelings that going to medical school invoked in him.

"I'm.. excited. I know this is the first step towards a real future in medicine. I'm eager to learn about all the new research that's being done and even more so to start assisting in its advancement. Most of all, I'm ecstatic to be staying in Canada--Bash, Dellie.. You--I don't want too be far. Somehow I ended up with the best scenario for me. So.. Yeah. I'm exhilarated. Happy."

Anne squeezed his arms in a gesture of support and smiled. "I am so glad for you Gilbert. And I know your father would be proud of you--so would Mary." A second later, her tone turned glum. "Only you'll be so far away.. I am so incandescently elated for you, and yet I am very sorry that we must be parted so soon. I was hoping you would join Queens if you weren’t leaving for Paris." Her lips formed a pout.

Gilbert moved forward, hands at the sides of her tiny waist, where he could feel the tips of her hair brushing against them, and leaned his forehead against hers, jaw clenching. He didn't wish to let go either.

"Pen pals?" He asked softly, a twinkle in his green-brown eyes.

Anne nodded, giggling, leaning back, arms still at his shoulders. "Likely you'll recall I happen to have a very nice fountain pen. It truly is aptly named the pen of possibility, for all my imagination I couldn’t have envisioned you having written _me_ a letter revealing your feelings to me with it, and--even more baffling to the imagination--myself penning countless letters of love to you, and across cities too--as will surely be the case now!"

She squeezed him once more, before realizing that his trousers were grazing her bare legs as he leant forward into her embrace--and she let him go, blushing. Gilbert slowly unwrapped his hands from her waist, standing next to her and using his arms to lift himself back onto the planks.

"Isn’t it true that a long distance correspondence is _just_ the thing your novels allude to as being one of the most tragically romantic forms of continuing an advance to a proper advance?" He wondered out loud, his tone teasing as he swung his feet with hers.

"Gilbert, do you mean to tell me this is my pre-advance advance?" Anne's eyes twinkled, “Did you not, but a few months ago, say you were _not that kind of guy_ ,” she deepened her voice, mimicking his quite comically.

The man in question gave out a hearty chuckle.

“You are quite mistaken, miss, I said I did not do Take Notice boards, and omitting the act of putting a notice up isn't an indication of my lack of taking notice--especially of a certain fiery redhead in the aisle next to me. I'll have you know I did notice--everyday.”

Anne coloured a merry pink, and stared at their feet under the water.

Unable to pass up a chance to tease the young man with the lined shirt and the golden tan, she quipped, “but just not an entire physical note's worth?"

Gilbert raised a brow, and leant over, splashing Anne slightly with his hands. She squealed, scooting away from him. “An entire, beguiling, Dashing White Sergeant’s worth.”

Brushing the light water beads off her dress, Anne nodded. “I cannot argue with you there--though I’d dearly love to--since it was positively one of the single most romantic moments of my life.”

"It had to be did it not,” he lamented, “especially since the only person I would have even considered doing something as silly as putting up a flirtatious public note for--leaving it defenseless against the likes of Josie Pye to read and mock, may I remind you--wasn’t interested in me in the slightest until that dance.”

“Perhaps if you _had_ she would have been,” her voice was playful.

He snorted, “Because that worked so well for Charlie!”

“Charlie has the charisma of a hat rack and the wit of one too!”

Gilbert’s eyes scrunched up at the sides as he laughed, his deep guffaw ending their banter, as he pulled her against his side in a crushing hug, blossom-scented hair tickling his nose. “And _I_ can’t argue with you there. I also can’t fathom that we’re sitting here either. Together. Laughing. Sneaking touches. And you’re actually mine, Anne? And I’m actually yours?”

“You, Gilbert Blythe, are a romantic sap--I am utterly surprised and entirely enamoured by it."

All of a sudden her romantic sap's hazel eyes brightened, and he jumped up, wrinkling feet dripping water all over the bridge, his hand held out to her.

Anne laughed, wondering what on earth he was up to now. "What?" she asked, putting her palm against his. He pulled her up, glint in his eye, an impish half smile on his face.

"You are going to be attending many a dance at Queen's, Anne, and I won't be there to escort you--not that you will have any trouble in that regard. But, while we are here, together, I would like to entice you to a twirl across the bridge--in hopes that its memory will later remind you how much I wish I could be there with you, every time I'm not. I can't have you forgetting me can I? So--will you dance with me, miss? Here by the brook, barefoot in the forest, with nothing but the erratic, soothing sounds of nature around us?"

Anne wordlessly allowed herself to be tugged towards him, a hearty laugh bursting out of her as Gilbert twirled her around, expression as smug and delighted as it was when he had danced with her at school. She spun back into him, maneuvering their hands and standing on her tiptoes--using her own torque to spin him around. The two burst into peels of laughter, and Gilbert watched Anne as she proceeded to twirl on the spot, as he did at that night at the ruins--but this time, he didn't feel like an outsider watching in, this time, somehow he felt like he was a small part of the bubble she lived so vibrantly in.

"Twiiiiiiiirl! It's so much fun!" Anne rolled her eyes at him, her hair flying around her as she slowed down and grabbed both his hands, pulling him around in a moving circle. He had to admit, he never really had the urge to dance--but dancing with Anne was a whole different experience. She was so full to the brim with life, laughter and freedom, that those emotions spilt over into anyone she was around. Eventually their laughter and shenanigans slowed down, and the pair came closer together in a gentle sway, her head on his chest.

"You were rather good at that, you should twirl more often, Gil. Twirling is good for the soul."

“Gil..” he repeated, “I like that.” His voice was smooth, eyes bright, refraining from showing her how much he liked the affectionate variant of his name from her lips. _Maybe the pleasure I feel should be left till our next meeting,_ he thought, as he felt an electric shiver in his body and goosebumps on his arms. Not wanting to scare the blue-eyed, red-headed, prone-to-running-away love of his life by pushing too hard before she was emotionally and physically ready, he instead, squeezed his dryad closer to him. The swooshing of the water surrounded them, as a white butterfly flew past. “The way you say it.. like a caress. Will you call me that more often when we're alone?”

Anne nodded, humming a low tune as they swayed. Their bare feet thudded softly across the bridge, leaving wet footprints on the wood.

"I imagine flying is like dancing, don't you? Instinctive, passionate movement. Swaying in the sky, uninhibited, able to move this way and that.. the breeze running over your body. And there's such an art to it, you can tell that birds and butterflies have artistic, sensitive souls. It must be such a joy to fly! I'm convinced dancing is the closest thing to it."

Gil smiled, "Bash once said that even bees dance."

"They do! All the animals dance, how could they not? Dancing with a kindred spirit is one of life's greatest pleasures. I'm sure of it." Anne smiled softly, her eyes fluttering as she looked up, past the curly hair looming above her to the cover of the trees, "You know, Gil, I think I would take lush, leafy roofs, over marble ceilings, and sparkling floating dandelion seeds over expensive diamond chandeliers! Oh, and, scrumptious, clear springs of water over expensive rugs, and definitely, _definitely_ bare feet over fancy boots.. I always thought I wanted the prettiest things, but the truth is, they're all here. Everything I need, it was all right here in Avonlea."

Endless moments of flirty remarks, soft laughter and dizzying swirls and twirls later, the two had moved to sit against a tree on a bed of grass. Shoes, socks and stockings had been returned to their rightful places. As the sun began to lower itself slightly, and the shadows of the trees blurred together.

Gilbert ran a hand down Anne’s arm and held on to her own, pulling her off the soft grass in one swift motion.

"You must be exhausted, come on, let's go inside, and you can tell me all about your journey here--I'm sure you've had a few adventures along the way."

"Infact I did!” Anne exclaimed, as she dusted her skirt, unable to wait, when the anecdote was so fresh in her mind. Their hands swung together slightly as they walked back across the plank. “Just as I was running back to Queen's, a bothersome gust of wind flew my new hat straight off my head! Now I know I ought to have held it down, but I've not quite gotten used to it and forgot to, in my hurry. It ended up on the low branch of a lovely old tree, and well, I tried to reach it, but I couldn't, so I stretched out my frilly umbrella to knock it down. Not to cut the story short, but my shiny, new, good-for-basically-nothing boots slipped and I found myself _almost_ toppling over into a uh, well there was a depression on the ground by the tree and, uh, well, I was-"

Gilbert, who had been listening attentively, until this point--his fondness for Anne's storytelling soaring with every changing expression on her face--couldn't help but let out a loud laugh.

"I do believe, Anne, that the word you're looking for is _ditch_ ," the humour in his voice was unmistakable.

"That's not--it, no--ugh, wipe that silly grin off your face! I do not habitually fall into ditches on a daily basis, adventuring or otherwise!"

"Of course not, no-" the young man shook his head, in agreement with her, "clearly this was a one-time occurrence, but, let me ask you an unrelated question--and whilst I ask you this, I’d like you to remember that you are my heart’s desire, and refrain from assaulting me-" his eyes gleamed with mischief as Anne narrowed her eyes. "Have you eaten at all since your conversation with Winifred?"

The red-head looked decidedly flustered, fingers twisting in the skirt of her dress.

"Oh, well--I--I wasn't hungry you see, and, ah..I was in such a hurry to get to Avonlea, to you.. "

The smirk Gilbert wore initially, transformed a full grown laugh again, as she stuttered through an explanation.

“Gilbert Blythe, you scoundrel, stop grinning like a Cheshire cat, or I shall march right back up to Green Gables this instant!”

The infuriating man ignored her idle threats.

"It seems Marilla was on to something there! Fear not my Anne, I shall strive to keep you a safe distance from all ditches, trenches, bumps in the ground, and general disturbances underfoot whenever I'm around." He wiggled his eyebrows and tugged her hand towards him with callous fingers, "I'm making you a pot of tea, so Marilla doesn't march down here and pelt me on the head with a broom for not providing you with sustenance. I also need to hear all about this _dragon_ , Mrs. Blackmore, for I plan to spend as much time with you as humanly possible when I come to visit.”

Anne gladly snatched the change of subject away from her clumsiness, as soon as it was provided to her.

"She's _unmovable_ Gil! There's no way to get past her, trust me, Moody has been trying diligently."

"I do sincerely hope you believe me to be more charming and resourceful than _Moody_ , Anne." Gilbert deadpanned, turning his head to the side to look at her.

She laughed cheerily, squeezing his palm.

 _It is the most spectacular thing, to witness Anne's laughter,_ Gilbert thought, glancing down at her affectionately, _Anne always laughs with her entire face, in a moment of such pure hysterical bliss._

Anne's heart felt similarly light, _how truly tremendous it is to be able to joke with Gilbert in such a carefree manner._

As they walked hand in hand, the biggest smiles on their faces, they both felt swaddled in a calm they had not felt in months. Anne stretched out her free hand, her fingers skimming leaves as they walked by, a light hum on her lips.

"It seems we will not see each other much from now on, will we? It'll be such a change.. Regardless of how we-I felt about you this year, I took some comfort in the simple fact that you were always around. And the thought of not seeing you everyday, now, more than ever, is distressing."

"Worried you won’t be compelled to study as hard without the intense desire to beat me?” he teased.

Turning her nose up at him, she scoffed. “Decidedly not! In fact, I am certain you will suffer more from our lack of intellectual camaraderie.”

“I most certainly will, and I am not ashamed of it.” He nudged her shoulder with his as they walked, “We will make it work, Anne."

“We will.”

“Especially if we can discern an ideal way for me to rendezvous with my fair flame-haired maiden, outside suitor hours, preferably in a place where we’re not being espied on constantly.”

“Mayhap you could climb up the window to my room?” Anne grinned, her aforementioned flame hair ruffling behind her in the breeze.

“I would gladly scale the side of a boarding house for you, Anne, and in return all I ask is that you consider climbing down to rescue me when I inevitably find myself sprawled on the grass--with Josie in hysterics above, after witnessing my literal fall from grace--I know you're a far better at climbing than I.”

Anne giggled, “Alright, new plan--no clambering up or down windows until absolutely necessary. All in favour?”

"Aye! Say, Anne, perchance Mrs. Blackmore could be convinced to let you sneak out of your boarding house in the evenings, for say, a basket of Avonlea's finest apples, shined, waxed and delivered to her fortnightly?"

"It's worth a try!” She nodded, enthusiastically, “if there was any fruit on the surface of this glorious earth that could melt a resolute heart, it would be those delicious Blythe apples." Gilbert's chest swelled a little with pride as she said those words--touching a place deep within his heart, consoling an insecurity he had felt since he had come back home from his days at sea, to a barren orchard.

Anne, oblivious to his thoughts, took in the picturesque forest as they walked past lush green trees of all various sizes, towards the end of the treeline. "The orchard looked positively magical as the summer sun shined its heavenly rays down on it, didn't it? Even here, in the woods, everything glows rather wonderfully golden during these long lazy days, don't you think? The world is all so alive, but slow-moving.. like the thickest honey. I feel so at peace, being able to talk to you like this, to walk with you like this--especially like _this_!" she swung their joint palms up in the air to emphasize their union.

Gilbert listened, satisfied to just let her speak, his heart itself feeling like it was glowing. How often had he wanted to walk besides Anne, to hear her talk about the earth, the sun, and everything in between?

As they made their way back into the dull sunlight, stepping through the fields of soft grass, the evening breeze setting upon them and ruffling their hair, Gilbert addressed her final remark.

"It's all I've wanted since you hit me on the face with your slate.. before that even, when I saw you in the woods and you ran past me, a small whirlwind of red." She looked at him affectionately as he continued, "Who knew, after all this time, that we'd be in L-O-V-E?" He wiggled his eyebrows with a ridiculous grin.

Anne’s entire body tingled at his mention of love, and she recognized the emotion in his eyes, along with the awareness that they were neither of them ready to voice the words to one another, in any more a frank manner. So much had been said already, even more so had been conveyed through theit interactions over the last few hours, that this could wait.

"You make me swoon, sir, for who can refuse a boy who knows how to spell?" and then, since she couldn't help herself, _and I really don't have to anymore,_ she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a wet kiss to his smooth, tanned cheek, using slender fingers to flick his dark, slightly damp curls away from his eyes, before moving to the back of his head and feathering through the soft hair above his neck.

"Well--you did, for years," he said, mock pout on his lips, a brow dipping slightly.

"Ah, but you could not even spell engagement, let alone indefinitely!" she said in jest, and with another quick smack of her lips to his cheek, she pulled back, holding his hand and resuming their walk.

"One day, Anne, I'll be able to spell engagement well enough, and then you won't have any excuse to leave." His quiet promise both surprised and excited her, and she felt her face redden and her corset feel tight. Unable to speak, or indeed look at him, she rearranged her fingers to thread through his, as they walked on in comfortable silence until they returned to the Blythe-Lacroix Orchard.

As they neared the stone house, Gilbert chuckled under his breath. So much had changed since he woke up this morning--he was still unsure that he had fully processed how monumental an afternoon this was in the grand scheme of his life. To think, so much drama could have been avoided if not for a terrible case of miscommunication. He couldn’t help teasing Anne again as they walked the path that led to the back door.

"I really thought I was going to get the ‘oil lamp fell and lit the page ablaze' explanation about my letter."

Anne's head snapped up, hands pulling back from his as she gasped exaggeratedly at his audacity to bring up the essay Miss Stacey had instructed her to write about gossip, "Gilbert Blythe, I thought you weren't eavesdropping!"

“You were speaking _exceptionally_ loudly, Anne."

“Well I never! First he listens in on my private conversations and then he finds me obstreperous! Well, Mr. Blythe, you certainly know how to woo a woman." Flicking her hair back, she placed her hands on her hips as she waited for him to respond.

Gilbert grinned, oozing charm, gladly accepting the challenge Anne had unconsciously put forth.

Circling Anne with an arm around her waist, he put the other hand to his heart, "Why, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert--I hope we will add Blythe to that list eventually-” He ignored her gasp and carried on, “you have misunderstood me. Obstreperous? Never. I find you brilliantly opinionated--in fact, henceforth, may I humbly request to be privy to all your insightful musings?" His voice took a more serious tone as he went on, eyes softening as they stared at her, gaze unwavering, "You are so incredibly intelligent, Anne, that I have to remind myself to keep up with _you_. I am constantly in awe of how you refuse to back down in the harsh face of adversity--God, the freedom of speech protest, you have no idea what that did to me. You fight for what you believe in with passion and strength--and that's not even your finest quality.. That would be this--in spite of everything, you never let anyone or anything diminish your wondrous spirit. You are fire, Anne. Blazing when you want to be, and gentle otherwise, but always, _always_ , unabashedly you--invariably radiant. You inspire _me_ , Anne, and I'm so glad I can finally say that out loud."

A ghost of a shy-smile appeared on the side of his mouth as Anne stared at him in shock, unmoving, still in the circle of his arms. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt herself overcome with the strange sensation of being utterly adored.

Her mouth moved open and closed but no words escaped. She squished her cheek against his shoulder and hugged him, arms sliding around him.

"I--thank you." she sniffed, eyes wet. She felt his own cheek on her head, as he nodded, returning her smile, his eyes closing.

They stood there for a minute, locked in a snug embrace, greenery and the shade of the apple trees around them adding to the serenity of the moment.

Anne looked up, misty eyed, and stared at the expression on his face, knowing his heart was open for her to see--she could _finally_ , see the romance in those lovely eyes of his. _So, this is what Ruby meant._

"You're going to have to write me more letters, Carrots, and I'll tuck them under my pillow so no one can read them but me," he smiled softly, and tugged on a stand of her lustrous red hair.

"You've been holding that horrid nickname in for years now haven't you?" Anne groaned at his cheeky grin, so much like the one he gave her when he first called her after that dreaded vegetable. She sighed. "I'll _have_ to write won't I? It would be cruel to leave you without my insightful musings."

"It would indeed.." Hazel eyes sparkling, he lifted her hand up, turning it over and delicately kissed the inside of her wrist, before letting go. "I cannot wait."

"You never did tell me exactly what was in your letter--it seemed rather long.."

"I didn't, did I? Well, maybe tomorrow I'll give you something to read when you get back to Queen's. Only if you will write your own letter back into existence for me."

"Fair and square?"

"Fair and square."

Anne’s mind stood to attention at those words, and she suddenly remembered that she had been meaning to share a very important mission with Gilbert. How glad she was that they would be able to do good together. She grabbed his forearms, "Speaking of, Gilbert, before I forget, remind me to talk to you about a protest I have planned, I am in dire need of your help--a grievous injustice is being committed. I know you and I could really make a difference if we put our heads together. Do you, perchance, remember my friend, Ka’kwet? Well-"

“Anne!”

She pulled her hands back to her sides, as a shout sounded from afar.

“Jerry?”

Anne watched as the tall boy ran towards her from the front of the house. He smiled at the pair of them, his countenance cheerful as usual.

“'ello, Gilbert. Anne, Matthew and Marilla have been looking for you, they ‘ave arrived from Charlottetown with good news! They would like you to come back with me so that they can share it with you.” Jerry’s eyes darted between them, much as it had years ago outside a quaint tea house. “What’s going on with you two?”

Anne coloured, her hands wringing together. “Nothing! I-ah-we-I’ll be right there Jerry, go on and I’ll follow you.”

Gilbert passed him the suitcase that Bash had put near the steps after Rachel had left the premises, with a mumble of thanks and a smile. The French boy grinned knowingly at the two of them as he started back down the road to the front of the house.

As Jerry’s back turned, Anne gave her Gil-- _my Gil, oh heavens_ \--a long, dreamy look.

“May I see you later? Before dinner?” He asked softly, a thumb touching her hand inconspicuously.

“Please,” her eyes shone at the prospect of seeing him alone for a last time before their early train ride tomorrow.

“I’ll come stand under your window.”

“And I’ll try not to climb down.” A soft dimpled smile appeared on her face. Her fingers reached around the back of her head and pulled one of the few remaining white flowers--plucked from the soft earth near the sea, and threaded in her hair earlier in the day--out of her falling knot and twirled it in her fingertips before stringing it through the empty second buttonhole of his waistcoat.

Hand against his chest for support, she raised up on her tiptoes slightly to kiss his smooth cheek.

“See you, Gil.”

With a last smile that he returned, she turned towards the direction of the front of the house.

She took a few steps forward before she was hurled back all of a sudden, and a moment later all she could feel were soft curls against her forehead, warm lips on hers, and large hands threading through her hair, blunt nails scraping her scalp lightly. She mirrored their actions, slim fingers in dark hair, causing their owner to moan faintly.

It was over all too soon, and she looked up at his cocky smirk, dazed.

“See you, Carrots. You look spectacular, by the way.”

With one last brush of his thumb on her jaw, and an overly confident wink, he gently turned her back around and nudged her towards the direction of Green Gables.

Jerry was waiting for her at the end of the road. The mirthful expression on his face clearing her of her lovelorn trance instantly.

“Gilbert--isn’t he the one whose sole purpose in life is to torture you?” Jerry grinned, repeating a fond phrase of Anne’s from not too long ago.

Anne groaned, hands covering her face.

“Only you don’t look like you were being tortured, in fact-“

“Oh, don’t start, Jerry!”

“ _Oui_ , of course.” He nodded.

After a few moments of walking, Jerry cleared his throat. His voice was quietly serious as he said, “If he ever causes you any _detresse_ -“

“I know,” Anne said gratefully, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing her thanks, the sibling love that had been growing for him in her heart increasing tenfold.

The lanky boy grinned, reaching up to adjust hit hat, and just like that the moment was over. A beat later, Jerry started singing instead--singing, what sounded suspiciously to Anne like a French folk song about young love.

Rolling her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile that she refused to let him witness.

As the sun grew heavier in the sky, and the sky itself slowly turned from bright blue to a yellowish hue, her mind wondered, contentedly, back to all that had conspired today. The sweet smell of the grass engulfed them as they made their way through the fields, towards her most favourite place on earth. _Isn’t life momentous, indeed?_ She couldn’t wait to tell Matthew and Marilla about all that had transpired--well, maybe not all of it--and she was bursting with curiosity about their allegedly good news. She would have to write a letter to Diana as well and apologize profusely for not being able to see her on her short trip back to Avonlea.

Mostly, she felt delightfully light because she knew that back at the Blythe-Lacroix Orchard, a curly haired boy with a flower in his vest was thinking about her--about them. About how they would be able to face whatever was coming--distance, college, stuffy, old, backwards white men, and even the status quo. They would deal with it together, like true equal partners and life mates would. There was so much to talk about, and yet, now that they were finally together, they felt no urgency to have those conversations. They had all the time in the world. Sometimes one just had to slow down, bask in the glow of the summer sun, and let lazy banter and sweet apples be all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 2/12 ~ I realized I forgot to write them dancing by the brook! I've added that.

**Author's Note:**

> Have a great day, kindred spirits!
> 
> Also, this cancellation is a tradegy. And not a romantic one.  
> #renewannewithane
> 
> I love comments, so thank you guys! x


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